


impartial bystander (for the time being)

by weatheredlaw



Series: wait, don't tell me [6]
Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a Belcher, dammit. It's going to take a lot more to unnerve her than a dumb boy and a hat that wouldn't fit him either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this since july, please get it away from me

BOB: So when you run the restaurant are you going to call it "Louise's Burgers?" -- from _Carpe Museum_  
GENE: I bet when you reconnect in your thirties, you guys will get married." -- from _Late Afternoon in the Garden of Bob and Louise_

* * *

Of all the people to roll into her restaurant -- _her_ being used very loosely, according to her father -- Logan Bush isn't the person Louise is expecting. For one, when he finally did leave town for college, he made a pretty big show of telling her. This was all post-garden fiasco, the thing that took whatever they'd sort of gotten going during the awful will-not-be-named seminar debacle and smashed it to tiny pieces. The day he got accepted to a school _not_ anywhere nearby, he walked into the restaurant, letter in hand, and actually rubbed it in her face. 

And then she never saw him again.

Until literally, like, _right now_.

Louise is hardly at a loss for words. He pushes open the door and she's taking a delivery order -- an idea of hers that's gone incredibly well, you're _welcome_ , dad -- and she's going to laugh because he looks _hysterical_ , but he also looks super depressed so she doesn't. Instead: "You got fat. Probably from eating all that crow, right?"

"Ha _fucking_ ha. Twerp." 

Louise is twenty-one years old. She is the furthest thing from a twerp. But she lets it slide. "I thought you were, and I _quote_ , 'totally outta here.'" 

"I, uh. I got a job. Here. In town, I mean. Working for Fischoeder."

Louise raises an eyebrow. She's...a little impressed. "You know he's totally crooked, right?"

"I'm gonna be his accountant." 

_Now_ she laughs. "Oh my _god._ You've been gone for, like ten years, and _that's_ the job you have? You're gonna be his _accountant?_ "

"Hey, I have a _master's_ degree, in case you were _wondering_ \--" _God_ he's funny when he gets mad. Louise laughs, full on, bellyaching _laughs_ and Logan puffs up like one of those allergy kids without his epipen and just walks out the door. 

Louise doesn't even stop to wonder why he was there in the first place.

Later, her dad comes up from the basement with a crate of buns, nursing his back after he puts it down. "Who were you laughing at?"

"Stupid Logan."

Bob looks up. "He's _here?_ " Louise nods. "Wow. God, I bet he's living with his parents. It's like an epidemic." He glances up, like he can see through the layers of their apartment to Louise's room that she's _not_ living in, but wishes she just would. Secretly. "Dork," he adds, eyes flicking back to Louise and grinning. "Did he get fat?"

"Eh, not really. Just the usual."

"So...not like me."

"Nope." Louise smiles and hands her dad a cup of water and an Advil. "Not like you." 

 

 

 

For just a little while, Louise completely forgets that Logan is back in town. Things at the restaurant have never been busier, even though it couldn't have happened at a lousier time. Bob threw his back out last fall, and he's been suffering with it for months now, ignoring everyone's (Linda's) loud and sometimes angry (also Linda) suggestions that he just _get surgery_. But he doesn't want to be out and he's pretending he can't afford it and there's no one else who could do what he does.

Well. Tina could. But Bob won't call her and ask for help and Louise won't do something he doesn't want her to do and Gene, while fabulous, is mostly useless. To the restaurant. Not to the family. But when they need it -- like, on the verge of closing down for the day _need_ it -- Gene is right there. Louise doesn't even have to call. He just seems to know. 

Or their mother calls him, which is probably the more likely scenario.

Like today. Linda comes downstairs and says that Bob isn't getting out of bed, which might be an actual first for him. Louise can't remember a time when he dad wasn't up before everyone else, grumbling about something, cooking something -- it's what he _does._ So when he doesn't make an appearance -- and when Louise sneaks upstairs to check on him and he's completely and totally passed out -- she does, sort of, have a mini freak out in their weird bathroom. 

"Don't _hog_ the thing, Louise, I had _chorizo_ for breakfast!"

Louise practically falls into her brother's arms, but only metaphorically because she's got her shit together a little bit more than that. She comes out of the bathroom and kicks Gene in the knee and tells him to turn on the charm because she's manning the grill. 

"We don't say _manning_ anymore, Louise."

"Oh my god, _shut up._ "

"Whatever." Gene disappears into the bathroom for fifteen minutes and comes out ready to go. "Okay. Let's _do_ this thing."

Gene does the thing he's always done best -- entertains. The front half of the restaurant is alive with music from Gene's phone on the new speakers, his stories and his laugh. Of the three of them, Louise definitely thinks Gene grew up to be the most functional. Every so often, she sees Linda's head peak down from the stairs to the apartment and then disappear, but she knows well enough to stay out of the way. The rush comes and goes. Louise flips the last lunch burger and slides it out the window, the rough noises of her childhood that haven't faded.

And right about three o'clock, when the place is emptying out and her father is meandering down the stairs like a kid lost in a theme park -- Logan reappears.

Louise is grateful it isn't lunch. Otherwise she might have grilled his face. 

"What are you _doing_ here?" she asks, feeling braver behind the expanse of the counter. 

"I'm hungry. You do serve _food_ here, right? Not just nutriloaf or something?"

Louise points out the window. "We are a _dining establishment_. The prison food can be found across the street." But she hands him a menu anyway. "The burger of the day is Challa At Your Bok Choi." Logan groans. "Complain to the writer, he's in the back." Logan looks behind her through the little window and his neck gets a little red, so he hides his face behind the menu. Louise snorts. 

"Cheeseburger," he says.

"You want fries?"

"Uh. Yes."

"Uh. _Okay_." She puts his order up and goes around to make it, bumping into her father trying, and failing, to tie his apron. "Dad. What are you doing?"

"Something. I'm doing _something_ , Louise."

" _Bobby._ " Linda tries to pull him away from the grill. "You need to go back to bed."

"I've been in bed _all day_ , Lin. I'm going insane up there, I can't do it anymore. I am going to make a burger, even if it's for Berry Bushes or whatever his name is out there."

" _Who?_ " Linda looks through the window to Logan, who appears to be trying to make himself completely invisible. "Oh that little _punk._ I'll tell _him_ where he can eat--"

" _Mom._ " Louise steps in front of her and stops whatever momentum she was getting by putting a hand on her shoulder. "Just...let him eat, okay?"

Linda frowns. "We hate him, Louise."

"No, _I_ hate him. You hate his mother. Let's keep it that way, okay? Spend your energy somewhere else. Like getting a crane to carry dad back into bed."

From the grill Bob groans, wobbling a little on his feet. Almost on cue, Gene is there, Bob's arm around his shoulder. "Okay, dad. You tried, we're all very proud of you, medal of valor and all that good stuff."

"I hate this." The sound of her father's voice makes Louise uneasy, but she fills his spot at the grill while the three of them get back upstairs. 

Louise glances up and Logan is looking at her, but pretending he wasn't. "You want everything on it?" she asks.

"Yeah. Yes. Please." Louise rolls her eyes, but drops a piece of cheese onto the burger and preps the rest of it, dropping a basket of fries seamlessly. She's got her own rhythm back here and it works best when her dad is out of the picture, for just a bit. He does things his way and Louise heard enough of her dad and grampa's fights when the old man was alive to know why the extended Belcher family Christmas was such a shouting match. So Louise makes microchanges to the front of the store and lets her dad dinosaur his way around the back until his feet hurt, then does things the Louise-way. 

She walks around and sets his order on the counter, opening the little fridge they added underneath and pulling out a coke. "This okay?" He nods. "Great." She leans back and watches him for a moment. "So. You came back."

"I wasn't expecting to," he says, popping the tab. "I applied for the job before I realized where it was, but it pays better than anything else I was doing or planning on doing." He takes a bite, stops, and looks at her. "This is really good."

"Don't talk with food in your mouth. Infant." Louise drops his bill next to him and goes back into the kitchen to ignore him while he eats. He must realize she isn't going to talk to him anymore because he leaves what he owes on the counter and his phone number on the back of the check. Louise decides to throw it away.

 

 

 

A few times a week, right around three, Logan comes in for a meal. If it were every day, Louise might be inclined to read into it, but this town has few palatable places to eat, so it makes sense he'd make this one of his late-lunch places. They don't really talk more than they have been, but after a while he stops placing an order and Louise just starts making it around two-fifty so it's almost ready when he comes in. He doesn't leave his number again, but he doesn't ask why she hasn't texted him. They fall into a thing. It's not a big deal.

"Do you still live here?" he asks one day, sort of out of the blue. It's during the period of time when Louise ignores him to get ready for the dinner crowd and it surprises her. She thought they had a _thing._

"I have a place." Her name is on the window, she splits the profits with her parents, and it's enough to have a place of her own that she has always desperately needed. "Why? You living with your mom?"

Logan scowls, but nods. "For now," he says quickly. "I do actually need a place. Just wondering what's around here."

"There's new condos by the wharf and some older stuff downtown. You could rent a house, maybe. I dunno. I just went out and got something." God, _why_ is she _talking_ to him?

"I'm used to the way city markets work."

"Better leave your fancy talk at your mom's house then. Us beach folk get intimidated by it." 

"Yeah, well, I need a place, like, yesterday. My mother is driving me crazy."

"Uh huh."

"She _hovers._ All the time."

"Hey, dipshit."

He groans. "Yeah, _what?_ "

"I don't wanna talk about your mom, okay?"

Louise is bent over a box of tomatoes from the little fridge and doesn't hear his change hit the counter, but when she straightens back up, Logan is gone, and the check's been paid. 

 

 

 

On Fridays, Louise lets her mother close the restaurant, goes home early, and drinks a bottle of wine while she skypes Tina. It's a rare thing they get to do because Tina is terrible at texting and Louise hates texting, so this works better for them. Three years ago Tina got accepted to grad school in Portland and, when she finished, just stayed out there because she'd found her people. The last time Louise had visited, she figured her sister was right and finally felt good about the move. For the most part. On the other side of the screen, Tina is nursing her own bottle and braiding her hair. 

"Gene told me Logan Bush was back," Tina says, in a way that tells Louise that Gene said a lot more than that, but she's decided to hold back.

"Uh huh." Louise is not going to entertain this train of thought for much longer, but Tina is being kind about it so she lets it go.

"He said he's cuter."

"Also stupider. He works for Fischoeder. He's his _accountant._ "

"He went to Princeton. We're friends on Facebook," she adds. Louise rolls her eyes. "Hey, is dad okay?"

Louise nods, grateful for the topic shift,. "He needs surgery."

"You guys can afford it now, he should just go."

"The insurance would cover it," Louise admits. "But he's too freaked about it. He'd have to be in bed for, like, ever, and you know he'd lose his mind."

Tina shrugs. "Get him an Xbox."

"Mom would monopolize it."

"Get her some more stuff for the Wii."

"Your solution placate our parents with video games, while theoretically effective, kind of worries me." Louise takes a long drink from her wine bottle. They had long since ditched the glasses. "Why is Gene telling you about Logan anyway?" 

Tina's brow ticks up for a fraction of a second, something only Louise would notice, and she shrugs again. "No reason. Mom called me and she's thinking about taking hot yoga." Tina leans into the camera. "Don't let mom take hot yoga."

"Hard hitting advice from my big sister. Good stuff, T. I'm going to bed."

"Say hi to Logan for me."

Louise opens her mouth to smart off, but Tina's already logged off because she was sort of always good at their game, she'd just been holding back. 

 

 

 

"I got a place," Logan says. Louise sets his plate down and raises an eyebrow. "To live. I move in next week."

"That's thrilling."

"It's a house. Kinda north of here. Far enough that my mom won't drive there."

"Fascinating."

"It's--" Logan stops. He looks up. "You're not wearing your _ears._ " 

Louise touches the top of her head without thinking. It had taken her so long to get used to the fact that they just didn't fit her, that she couldn't _replace_ the things that had kept her safe for such a long time -- the first day without them, she got her hair chopped off, cropped close and short until she barely had anything to pull at. Her father had cried, but Tina had moved and his dad had died and Louise stood in the kitchen with her too-small hat in her hands and almost nothing on her head and he _sobbed_ until she couldn't stand it and wrapped her arms around him. 

"They don't...they didn't fit. Anymore." Louise feels raw under his gaze and ducks her head. She can still hear the way her dad's chest rattled under her hands, the way he shook and couldn't even say he was sorry because what did he _ever_ have to be sorry for when it came to Louise? She feels her expression sour. "Besides, you weren't around to miss them." _That_ comes out weirder than she wanted it to. And she doesn't mention that they'd started getting tight almost a year before she ditched them, or that she suffered through an itchy scalp and a near-constant tension headache until Gene finally told her she might actually kill herself if she didn't take them off. 

Tina had been the one to do it, reaching out with steady hands to pull them from her head. The three of them stood in the bathroom with Bob's razor and Louise felt her hair tickle the backs of her legs as it fell. 

"You look good," Logan finally says. "Without the ears, I mean."

Louise turns and goes into the kitchen. Eventually, she hears the sound of coins on the counter and the bell over the door. She counts to ten and goes back out there. She's a Belcher, dammit.

It's going to take a lot more to unnerve her than a dumb boy and a hat that wouldn't fit him either.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mom, I _told_ you. Taxes are due in four days."

"They are _not._ " Linda looks at her phone and makes a noise, throwing her head back. " _Crap_ on a cracker. We're super screwed, aren't we?"

"You haven't _done_ anything?" Louise can feel the stress she isn't supposed to be feeling start to rear its ugly head, and she grabs her mother, gently, by the arms and says, "We can do this."

"We _can't_ do this." Linda looks up. "Sweetie, I gotta take your father to seven different doctors this week." 

Right. As usual, her dad picks the worst time to finally start taking care of himself, and he needs to see five specialists and God only knows _what_ else to get cleared for his back surgery and Louise is _not_ prepared to handle this. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know why we're still doing this ourselves," Linda says. She gets into the fridge and grabs a bottle of wine, uncorking it and taking a long drink. Wordlessly, she passes it to Louise. "We can pay someone to do our business taxes once a year."

" _Everyone_ is going to be swamped. We don't know--" Louise stops. "Hold on."

Linda shrugs. "Okay, but I can't promise any of this will be left, honey." 

"Foget the _wine_ , mother." Louise bounds down the steps two at a time to grab her purse in the restaurant. 

So, okay. Logan left his number on a check. And okay. Louise threw it away. 

Later, before she could evaluate her life choices, she went back and dug it out. 

 

 

 

"My going rate is a hundred an hour," Logan says casually. His _stupid_ laptop is open, illuminating his _stupid_ face while he glances over at Louise with a _stupid_ smile.

"Whatever." She has to mop the floors and she isn't going to let him do their taxes alone or something. If he's going to judge her family's business, he's going to do it with her standing there, in what is rapidly becoming a puddle of light brown mop water. Louise moves and starts pushing it around while he taps away. "It's easy though, right?"

"You've got everything here, you've kept your receipts and maintained your books. So, yeah. Couple hours, tops." Louise nods. "Where'd you end up going to school?" he asks. He keeps his eyes on the paperwork, fingers constantly moving on the keys. Louise figures if he's going to work -- and she can see his program reflected in the window, so he can't weasel out of this -- she may as well converse.

"Oceanside Tech."

"What'd you study?" 

Louise tries to detect some kind of smugness, maybe laughter, but finds none. "I got a math associates."

Logan pauses and looks up. "You could do this, couldn't you?" Louise shrugs, squeezing the head of the mop in the bucket. "Can I buy a beer?"

"How about I deduct it from your fees."

"Fair enough." 

Louise nods and goes around the corner to get a couple of bottles and, before she can change her mind, slides into the seat across from him. She pops the caps off on the edge of the table and hands him one. "So how's your new place look?"

"Empty. I threw a mattress down and slept better than I have in weeks." He takes a drink and is quiet for a while, typing and shifting some papers around. "You didn't throw my number away."

"I did, actually. And then I fished it out."

"You dug through garbage for my number?"

" _No._ I just said I _fished_ for it. It was like right on top. No digging necesary, sicko." She flicks the neck of her bottle. "Wouldn't work that hard for your _dumb_ number. Dummy."

"You put a lot of work into pretending you don't like me, don't you?"

Louise looks up, her cheeks a little flushed. "I'm not pretending."

"You are. It's been ten years since you've seen me. If I've gotten over being the kid who didn't like you, then you _definitely_ did because you were always, like, _years_ ahead of me. There's no way you fell behind."

"Maybe I did. You're old."

Logan laughs. "I'm getting there." 

Louise rolls her eyes. "You aren't _old_. My dad is old, okay? He's getting his back pulled open in three weeks. He can't walk down the stairs, okay? You're just...closer than I am."

"Alright, alright." He doesn't say anything for another half-hour. Louise gets up and cleans some more, dumps the mop water and finishes her beer. She thinks about another, but she doesn't really like it enough to warrant the buzz. Instead, she cooks a couple of burgers and, when they're done, sits back down across from him, pushing the plate over the table. Logan taps the edge of the plate. "You still owe me two hundred bucks, pipsqueek."

"Relax, Mathzilla. It's just food."

"Eating your profits. That's risky."

"We almost own the building. My overhead is low."

"But you're investing, right?"

"Well, I just hired this accountant, so things might be looking up."

Logan pauses before taking a bite, and though he doesn't meet her gaze, he smiles, and Louise smiles back.

 

 

 

For most of the tax season, Logan doesn't come by, though Louise knows from the delivery orders that he's definitely still sending her his business. And, okay, she's taking his patronage a little more personally, and, yeah, she's been thinking about what he said. About pretending not to like him. She's better than that. The only grudge she ever carried over from childhood was Millie Frock, who blessedly moved their senior year -- Louise _still_ has to deny her friend requests on the daily.

So when he finally comes back, she's not expecting him on that specific day and she doesn't have his order half ready, but she makes a concerted effort to be grateful for the favor he did. As concerted as she can be, anyway.

"You look like shit."

He sits on the stool and leans forward on both elbows, looking tired. "You skills of deduction _are_ incredible, Belcher." 

"Usual?"

"Actually." He looks at the board. "I think I'll have the Heart of 'Choke White." 

"I hope you're passionate about artichoke hearts," Louise says. "Tina's been texting us burgers of the day. Yesterday it was _Parmesean of the Dead._ "

"That's not bad."

Louise shrugs. "She's better at it than Gene. The other day he suggested Eggs Benedict Cucumbersquash." 

It pleases her probably a little more than it should that he laughs as hard as he does -- but he's tired, she figures, and his head is full of numbers and spreadsheets and whatever else he's been doing for Fischoeder, so she lets it slide. It turns out his passion for artichokes is not as great as he'd hoped, but he enjoys it either way. He lingers for a minute before paying his bill. 

"I wanted to know if you wanted to get a drink with me," he finally says. Louise is scraping his plate clean and setting it in the bin. She can smell her mother's perfume, suddenly, and knows exactly where she is -- behind the fridge, knees bent even though she complains about how they hurt all the time -- and her head tilted to hear. Louise grinds her teeth for just a second. 

"Okay," she says. "Sure." She gets a clean piece of receipt paper and writes down her number. "Don't sell this."

"Ah, you caught me."

"Yeah, well, don't throw it away either." 

Logan puts it in the pocket of his shirt. Right over his chest. Which is where they put the pockets for men's shirts, Louise remembers. There is nothing symbolic about it. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles and shoulders the door open, heading onto the street. 

To her credit, Linda waits a couple of minutes before coming around, pretending she doesn't know anything, her voice a lot shriller than usual.

"Mom. I could _smell_ you."

"Dammit." She leans against the counter. "Are you really gonna go out with that boy?"

"He's twenty-eight, mom. He's not a boy."

"That's _old_. Too old for you, right?"

"I'm not a _baby_ , mother." Louise opens the till to count the money. "And I'm also ignoring you now."

"Ugh, you'd have the worst in-laws, sweetie."

The drawer shuts with a _snap_ and Louise turns on her mother with a scowl. "It's a _drink_ , mom."

"Cynthia is a monster."

"Yeah, well, Logan's...not." 

Linda smiles. "Someone's had a change of heart."

"I'm an adult."

"I know honey." Her mother reaches around and puts an arm around her shoulder. Louise leans into her touch. "You have been for a long time."

 

 

 

When Gene's not feeling quite as perfect as he usually does, he crashes at Louise's place, and the two get completely shitfaced. This month's visit happens to coincide with Tina's skype call, and the three of them have a conversation together for the first time since Christmas. Gene's been managing the stage shows at the Wharf since his senior year of high school and is, when he finds the time, getting some form of a degree online, but Louise can never really be sure. 

Tina leans a little too close to the camera. "Gene, you don't look good."

"I'm feeling _crooked_. Not, like, completely off, just not completely _on._ Also I had a kilbasa for lunch and it's been riding side saddle all night." He burps for emphasis. "T, guess what."

"What?"

"Louise has a _date_."

" _Gene._ " Louise kicks him, but it just seems to make him happier. Tina nods.

"Mom told me."

"That's it. I'm disowning you all."

Gene croons. "With _Logan_. You do _remember_ Logan, don't you Tina?"

Tina shrugs. "I think it's nice." She taps her wine bottle to the camera. "Cheers, Louise. I hope you're happy." 

The little admission surprises Louise, but she shakes it off. "I'd be _happier_ if someone wasn't _hogging_ the last bottle!" She tries to grab it from Gene's hand, and the subject change goes off without a hitch. Gene and Tina bemoan their respective love lives without dragging Louise's... _whatever_ with Logan into it, and when Tina signs off, she's drunk and happy she got to see them both.

Later, Gene crawls into Louise's bed with her and pushes his nose against the back of her neck. "Gene, stop."

"Logan's pretty cute, don't you think?"

"Yeah, Gene. Whatever makes you happy. If you want I'll tell him you're interested."

Gene sits up. "Honey. I might be single, but I am not wanting for _dates_."

"Porn doesn't count, Gene."

He snaps his fingers. "I told you this would happen, remember?"

"No. I don't. Good night, Gene."

He rests his chin on her shoulder. "You've worked really hard for our family. You deserve a nice boy with money."

Louise feels a lump grown in her throat, but she stays quiet. Eventually, Gene rolls over and she hears his little whistle snore start up as he shifts next to her. She closes her eyes and smiles. "Thanks, Gene." 

He farts, which probably means he heard her, somewhere, in the layers of his dreams.

 

 

 

She doesn't let him pick her up at the restaurant, or let him pick her up at all. And he doesn't argue, which is good sign, and the bar is a couple blocks from her apartment, so if she has to pop a frame out of the bathroom window, she'll do it and be able to walk home. 

Logan is there when she walks into the bar, and it's a little early because the place is pretty empty. Mort and Teddy are definitely there, but they're pretending they don't see her, and that works for Louise. She sits at the little high top and orders a glass of wine. 

He waves a hand in front of her face. "Hi."

"I can see you, moron."

"Well, you just kinda sat here and looked past me so I wasn't too sure."

"I was deciding how long I should stay."

"And?"

"Waiting for the wine." 

He laughs and, when her drink gets to them, raises his glass. "Well, cheers then."

"Ugh, it's like you're not even _from_ here."

"Yeah, after a month at Princeton, you either become a prepschool baby or you get washed out. I chose the former."

"I'm sure that made your life easier."

He shrugs. "Didn't make it harder." 

Louise sighs. "You were right the other day, you know." He raises an eyebrow. "About...me pretending. To not like you. You're not _all_ bad."

"Not _all_ bad. Wow."

"Stop it."

"No, no. I wanna _savor_ this moment. This, like, singular, perfect, moment. Louise Belcher thinks I'm _not all bad._ God, it's like getting a birthday present." Logan snaps his fingers. "My birthday is next month. Consider this my gift."

"You're pathetic."

"And you're still mean. But not the way you used to be. It's...different." He leans forward. "It's kinda cute."

"Ugh stop _flirting_ with me."

He laughs. "Come on, you knew what this was."

"I did," she admits. "And I came anyway."

"I think that says something."

Louise snorts. "Yeah. It says _don't trip on that low bar, Louise._ "

"I'll be your low bar," he says. "You've got standards I can appreciate." 

Louise knows it's a cheap shot, the kind of things boys say to get girls to laugh and tease and flirt back. 

And she wants to say it doesn't work.

But then, she's only _supposed_ to lie to vegetarians. And she knows what he's been eating.


	3. Chapter 3

"This one."

"It's made of reclaimed beach trash."

"That's kind of cool though, right?"

"No." Louise kicks the little coffee table and it topples over. "It isn't."

Logan sighs and moves along the other pieces. Flea markets were, according to him, all the rage when he was in college. Out here, they leave a lot to be desired. Louise, Gene, and Tina used to come out here with their dad when they were kids, and she's pretty sure she still recognizes some of the furniture.

"This is all junk," she says.

"I don't know." He picks up some kind of sculpture that's supposed to be made of shells, but is mostly just glue. "This piece really _speaks_ to me." 

Louise finds herself laughing as he puts it down, falling into an easy rhythm next to him. They've been doing things like this a couple times a week for a month now, easy little trips that don't require commitment or planning. Things he can just text her about the night before and Louise can say no just as easily as she says yes.

But she always seems to say yes.

"Okay, what about this?"

"That's a dead animal."

Logan shrugs. "It's like a puffer fish. Why is everything ocean themed?"

"Well, you may have forgotten this, but the beach is sort of our _thing._ After the shark movie."

"Of course." They meander toward the food trucks and he buys her a lobster roll. Louise had told him the shellfish story without really thinking, and now they get lobster whenever they can because he thinks it's hysterical. "I remember that day. I was there with my dad." He leans in and whispers, " _Shellpile_ ," right in her ear, and Louise jerks away. "Are you ticklish?"

"This is _not_ a conversation we're having."

"No worries. I'll find out later." He has butter dripping down his chin and Louise takes her thumb and wipes it off. "How forward of you."

"You looked like a stroke victim."

"As always, your delicate and fanciful way with words sweeps me off my feet."

Louise rolls her eyes. "Come on, I'd rather eat this in a nursing home than stay here."

He shoves the rest of his lobster roll in his mouth, picking up a carving from one of the tables and cuddling it close. "But I _need_ this."

"Like a hole in your head."

 

 

 

Bob spends the week after his back surgery in bed, being a general pain in the ass and grumbling about work. Louise comes up when it isn't busy to read to him, let him know how things are going. It feels like they haven't talked in ages and Louise realizes with a jolt that they really haven't. It unnerves her more than she thought it might. 

"Your mom says you're dating Stupid Logan."

"We're not _dating._ "

"Just going on dates."

"Hey, old man. Don't have a heart attack on top of this, okay?"

"I'm not having a heart attack. I'm telling you that I think it's a good idea." He winces as he tries to reach out for her, so Louise gets closer. "God I hate this."

"You do look a little weird."

"It's the back brace."

"No, I mean--" Her dad's always been the one she could get personal with, but even this is hard. "Just...in bed. Like this. It's weird. That just isn't how I think of you."

"Don't cry."

"I'm not crying. You are."

"I am." He squeezes her hand. "I'm really proud of you." 

"Because I'm socializing?"

"Well--" He winces and sits up a bit. "That too. Just everything you've done for the restaurant. Everything you do for you mom and me. It's...nice."

"Ugh. Okay, I get it. Do we have to do this anymore?"

"We don't. Go get me a beer."

Louise shakes her head. "I'm all for bending the rules, but I'm not about you having a seizure." She turns his medicine bottle over and rattles off the symptoms. "It says call your doctor if you stop breathing. Why don't they just come out and say, _die if you're in idiot?_ "

"Not everyone has your tact, Louise." He slumps a little, looking tired. "Logan's nice to you, then?"

"Yes, dad. Stupid Logan is very nice."

"Do you call him that?"

She shrugs. "Sometimes." 

 

 

 

When he finally gets his apartment decorated -- and Louise thinks he should use the word _decorated_ extremely loosely -- he tells her he wants to have a party. 

"But only invite you."

Louise shifts behind the counter and hands him another beer. It's late, after hours, and they're splitting a plate of fries. Her parents have long since gone to bed and Louise needs to go home, but she's enjoying this. "So you just want me to come over."

"Yes."

"Just ask me to come over then, dumbass."

Logan leans forward, right into her space. "I want you to come over."

"Okay." 

He raises an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"If I wanted to talk around this I'd have asked you to actually throw a party, invite me, and then pretend I wasn't there. So, yeah." Now Louise leans forward. "I wanna come over."

"When?"

"Whenever."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sure."

If Louise gets any closer to him, their nose's are going to touch and that's just stupid. So she tips her head, leans in, and kisses him, because she stopped being afraid of these kinds of things a long time ago. He doesn't move, so Louise waits for his stupid boy brain to catch up with her. He breathes, opens his mouth, and there it is. 

It's a lot more awkward to kiss him like this than she thought it'd be. He's taller, and she's not particularly short, but the counter makes it weird. She pushes herself up, clamoring over shelves to get to him, her heart racing and hands shaking and he's very _good_ at this, she doesn't know if she expected him to be anything else. He's good and she knows she's good at it, so this is probably a really great experience for him. But now she's half-straddling the counter and his lap isn't especially stable, so she pulls away to say something, but he gets there first and says, "You could just come over tonight."

So she does.

 

 

 

"You bought that _stupid_ shell thing."

"I did."

"If you say you bought it for me--"

" _Because_ of you, Belcher. God, so _full_ of yourself. Very unattractive."

"Is it?"

"On you? No. It suits you. It's a good look. Almost as good as this one."

 

 

 

When Gene finds out, he almost does a backflip. And texts Tina that she owes him seventy-three bucks because that was the limit of their wager. Louise doesn't stick around to find out exactly what the details were. 

She has a date.


	4. Chapter 4

Behind the fridge is the least romantic place Louise can think of to have her boyfriend's hands under her shirt, but they spend a lot of his break like this, now. After he's finished eating of course. And if the place is empty. Mostly. Louise isn't picky about how empty it has to be, and Logan doesn't have a lot of time. 

"Okay, I have to go." He pulls back, but Louise has a hand fisted in his shirt and he groans, pressing his forehead against hers. "I really, _really_ have to go."

"You said that three minutes ago."

He looks at his watch. "Still true, punk." He kisses her forehead. "Come over later."

Louise shrugs. "Maybe."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll text you." He goes around like he works at the place all over again, almost bumping into Linda on her way downstairs. "Ah, sorry Mrs. Belcher." He gives her a polite nod and heads out the door. 

Linda looks at her. "He's much nicer."

"It's called being a grownup, mom."

"Tell that to your father."

Louise shrugs. "It gets worse with age."

 

 

 

She's in his kitchen at eleven o'clock, wearing his work shirt and making margaritas when he springs it on her. "My mother would like you to come over for dinner."

Louise runs the blender again for a few seconds, just to fuck with him, because she would rather pretend she didn't hear that and he knows it. He comes over and unplugs it from the wall. "That's improper handling of your kitchen appliances. What's gonna happen when you forget you left it on and you plug it in to make your nasty-ass wheat grass smoothie in the morning?"

"Louise."

He doesn't say her name a lot, she realizes. So she drinks the margaritas right out of the pitcher.

"Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I'll have dinner with your psycho mom and your _golf as therapy_ dad."

Logan scowls. "You shouldn't talk about them like that."

"Does your mom still keep a flask in her purse?"

"Fuck it, then. Don't come over, because you'll just be mean all night."

Louise slams the pitcher on the counter. "What am I supposed to say then, huh? Hey _hey!_ It's too bad I'll never know where your son got his adult coping skills from because he _clearly_ didn't get them from the two of you! God, do you even _know_ how different you are from them?"

"You don't know anything about my parents. We were _kids_ when that shit happened."

"You have done nothing but complain to me about your mother since you came _back_ here!" Louise groans. "What am I _supposed_ to think?"

"You--" Logan stops, scrubs a hand over his face "You know, I was going to say that you do the same thing, but you honestly don't." He laughs. "You're not wrong. We have a super weird dynamic."

"That's one word."

"Yeah, alright, so we're not like your family. I don't have a brother or anyone to talk to. And my mom only had me because she was vain about her hips and because she couldn't stomach the fertility pills again. I wasn't an accident, okay? I was made for a reason and then they just...forgot why. And I'm sorry that means my mom is kind of nasty and my dad is becomming irrelevent. But they're my parents. And I _like_ you, so I want them to meet you, okay? God _dammit_ , Belcher, you always make things hard for me, you know that? You did this when we were kids and you do it now--" Louise grabs him because the talking is, while sweet and sensitive and all the things Gene or Tina might want to hear, not really her jam. She grabs him and kisses him until he's pressed against the counter.

"I will have dinner with your parents," she says. "Just...please. Stop."

"You're going to be nice?" She makes a face. "You're going to be _civil?_ "

"As the fourteenth amendment."

Logan groans.

 

 

 

"So, Louise. It's been a long time. What are you doing now?" Logan's father serves her another scoop of garlic mashed potatoes. She will admit, later, that the food was delicious, but right now she wants to smash them in someone's face. 

"I'm managing my father's restaurant."

Cynthia makes a noise. "That's right, it's still open, isn't it?"

"And doing very well." Logan's voice is a little weird, like he's on the edge of having a nervous breakdown. And maybe it is. Thirty minutes ago Louise asked if she needed to open another bottle of wine, in case of emergency, and no one had laughed. "I mean, I eat there."

"You should eat something _healthy_ , Logan."

"We put lettuce on everything." 

" _That's_ comforting. Is your mother still working there?"

"She is."

"Well." Cynthia takes a long drink of her wine, and Louise thinks she and her mother might get along better if they drank together. "Some things never change." 

 

 

 

When Louise comes back from the bathroom, she lingers in the hall and catches words like, _no college education_ and _boozy mother_. 

"She's been _nice_ to you all night. You could do the same."

"I've been extremely civil."

To be fair, she has been. Louise thinks she and Cynthia might get along just fine, too. Some day. Eventually. 

"I think we'll skip dessert," Logan says.

 _Probaby didn't make anything._ Cynthia laughs. "You'll miss me eating sugar free vanilla from the carton then."

"Jesus, mother."

Louise decides to come back out, sad she has to miss the parts of Cynthia she actually likes. The ones that are a little bit like herself. 

When they say goodbye, Louise gives her a hug, something tight, but not too much, that says in pretty clear child-to-mom language, _You're alright._

And Cynthia must pick up on the message, because Logan gets a text at midnight that says they should come over for the fourth of July, and maybe bring dessert if he wants it so bad.


	5. Chapter 5

Tina comes home for a random week in October, right around Halloween, so it's the perfect time to have Logan over for dinner. According to her mother. Her father isn't pleased.

"He's _met_ Tina."

"But it's different now, sweetie. He's family."

"Stupid Logan isn't our family," Bob mutters. He's chopping tomatoes, bitterly and with angry gusto. Louise takes the knife from him and finishes while he sighs and goes to sit in his designated Dad Chair she put in the kitchen. "Are you in love with him?"

" _Bob._ "

"I'm just _asking_."

"You can't just ask your daughter something like that, you need to let her say it on her own." Linda leans in close. "She could _tell us_ if she is, though."

Louise drops the tomatoes in their container and ties her apron. "Lunch rush," she says, and kicks them out. 

If the idea of Logan being absorbed into their bizarre family matrix secretly thrills her, then that's her own little thing to keep. Tina comes down to help her with the grill, her hair twisted up into some terribly complex thing on the back of her head. "Mom says Logan is coming over for dinner."

"He is."

"She thinks you're in love with him."

Louise shrugs.

"We should make those cornish hens. Dad loves the cornish hens."

"He does, that's true." 

Tina flips a patty and looks over at her sister. "I'm really happy for you. Did I tell you I met someone? His name is Francisco and he's an exchange student from _Barcelona._ " She even pronounces the little _-th_ noise in the middle of the word.

 

 

 

"This is really great food, Mr. Belcher. I like the little hens."

Bob's face, which has been contorted into an expression of general constipation, pain, and apathy, settles into mild surprise. "Uh. Thank you."

"Logan, how's Mr. Fish?"

"Fine. He told me you're his third favorite tenants."

"Wow." Bob looks impressed. "We've made it to third? Last year we were definitely seventh."

"The year before that we were fifteenth," Gene says proudly. "Logan, you look great in the skinny tie thing. Does Louise ever tell you that you look _great_ in the skinny tie thing?"

"You should come to family game night," Linda says. "We haven't been able to play Twister since Bobby threw his back out last year."

"Yeah, we've been playing the same game of Monopoly for like eight months." Gene shoves a piece of cornish hen in his mouth talking around his food. "It's _exhausting._ "

"How do you remember where the pieces go?"

Gene shrugs. "We never put it away." 

 

 

 

"Your family is great," Logan says later. He's stretched out on her bed, playing Angry Birds on his phone while she brushes her teeth. She leans against the doorway of the bathroom and shrugs, turning to spit and rinse. "Seriously."

"I already knew that."

"I know, I just. They're cool. You guys are so close."

"Having siblings does that to you."

He tosses the phone to the side and puts his hands behind our head. "I don't think that's my family's problem."

"Your family is fine, they're just functioning on a different _level._ See, you gotta get on _my_ level. And the rest will follow."

"You think your level is better."

"I think it's more _fun._ Unless Cynthia's going to be drinking. In which case her level is my mother's level and they should hang out more."

"She could manage that."

Louise nods. "I'll make it happen." She crawls into bed and snags his phone, beating the level he's been stuck on for three days in a little less than seventeen seconds. He groans. 

" _Why_ do you do that?"

"Because you _suck_ at this game." 

He sighs, taking the phone and tossing it onto the night stand. They lay like that for a while, until he clears his throat and says, "I have to ask you something."

"Ugh."

"No, it's good, hear me out." Logan sits up. "Fish is having this party thing next weekend. I want you to go with me."

Louise sits up with him. "You want me to go to a work thing. And meet your work friends."

"...Yes."

She shrugs. "Okay."

Logan blinks. " _Okay?_ Okay, like...like that's it? You're not going to degrade me for my work, or for attending _functions_ or--"

"No." She lays back down. "I want to go. So I'll go. Stop being a crazy person about it, geez."

"Wow. I just...this is new. This is big. Can I take a sample of your hair or something? I want to make sure you weren't swapped--"

Louise takes his phone again, and she deletes Angry Birds.

"Nope," he mutters, bitter and sad. "Still you."

 

 

The last night before Tina goes home, Louise gets a text.

 **logan:** where are you  
 **louise:** at the restaurant, having cake  
 **logan:** i really need to see you  
 **louise:** come over, it's chocolate

And not ten minutes later, he's tapping on the door and waving her out. Bob raises a brow, watching her go. 

" _Shit_ , Logan, it's freezing out here!"

"My parents are getting a divorce."

Louise squeezes her own arms tighter, closing her eyes. "What?"

"They're getting a divorce. The told me at dinner. It's--"

"Oh my God, why the hell are we out _here_ then?"

"Your family--"

" _Ugh._ " She grabs him and pulls him inside. "Stupid Logan's parents are getting a divorce. Can he have some cake?"

"Shit," her dad mutters, and Linda crosses the room and pull Logan into her arms. "Jesus, _Lin._ "

"Oh, you poor baby. It's alright," she says. "We've got scotch, too, honey."

"That...sounds great, actually." 

Linda lets him go to run up the stairs and get the scotch and glasses. Bob cuts him a slice of cake.

"Sucks," he says.

"Yeah." Logan sniffs and takes his fork, scraping off some of the frosting and eating it. "It really does."

 

 

Louise takes him back to her apartment, pulls off his shoes, and puts him to bed.

Logan groans pressing his face in the pillow. "I really love you, you know that?"

"Yeah." Louise crawls into bed with him, turning off the lights. "I really love you, too."

"I know that."

"Good, please don't make me say it again this week."

"Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation as a mean girl."

"Please stop."

He sighs, rolling over and wrapping his stupid noodle arms around her. His hands are sweaty. "Thanks."

"You and my mom drank a bottle of scotch by yourselves."

"Your brother helped."

"No," Louise says kindly. "He brought that one for himself."

"I like your family." He shifts. "My mom is...upset."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"In the morning," he says. "You should go see her with me, too. She'll...she told me she likes you a lot."

"Oh." Louise swallows. "That's...nice."

"She can be, at times." He hums against her throat and drifts off the sleep. After a while, Louise gets out of bed, goes into the living room, and calls Tina on Skype.

"This is kinda sentimental for you," Gene says. They're both still at the restaurant, downstairs in a booth, drinking from a bottle of Bailey's. "Like, you could walk here."

"Logan's okay?"

"He's asleep."

Gene laughs. " _Damn_ , he's a lightweight. Mom is still going, but I think she and dad are having sex. We're not going upstairs until we're either too drunk to hear or too drunk to care."

"Good for them."

Tina leans in close. "You told him you loved him, didn't you?"

"Yep. You can both begin exchanging money, or lobbing insults. Your choice."

They look at one another. "Actually..." Tina takes the bottle from Gene. "We were both wrong. We had you pegged for next Christmas."

"What the hell, _seriously?_ "

"Hey, give Tina some credit," Gene says. "I figured you'd be broken up by next Halloween."

" _Ugh._ You both suck."

Tina leans forward. "I guess we owe you money."

Louise sighs. "Nah, keep it." She stretches. "I'm going to bed."

"You little homemaker," Gene says. "Kiss Logan for me."

"Sure thing, Gene."

Tina kisses her fingerips, then taps her camera. "Love you, Louise."

"I said it once, I'm all used up, _goodnight!_ " She closes the computer, leaning back against the couch. 

"Love you," she says, into the dark, before getting up and going back to bed.

And she leans over, presses her lips to Logan's temple and says, very quietly, "Love you, too. Stupid."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! as per usual, the fics in this series aren't necessarily connected, but exist within my belcher headcanons. 
> 
> tumblr: weatheredlaw


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